


have a hard time pouring champagne

by sammyspreadyourwings



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Banter, Brian May is easily distracted, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Early Queen (Band), Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Roger Taylor is long suffering, Silly, gen or slash you decide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Roger figures he has the patience of a saint dealing with Brian somedays.
Relationships: Brian May & Roger Taylor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	have a hard time pouring champagne

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing silliness and its cute, who knew!

Roger loves Brian. Truly wouldn’t know what to do without him in his life. They balance each other in ways that remind him of a river – one day Roger is grounding Brian so he doesn’t go off into his beloved stars and the next Brian is holding Roger together when things are a bit too much. It’s a deep bond that he can’t quite put into words but summed up – he loves Brian dearly.

Even if he can’t stand him some days.

Most of the time it's when Brian gets a bit too high on his intelligence horse or haughty because he got his way or sulking because he didn’t. It’s part of Brian so Roger lives with it – but some days he _really_ questions if their bond is truly ineffable.

Like now. His nose is running from the chill outside as he enters their flat but he can still smell something burnt. There is a lingering bitterness in the air that opening windows can’t get rid of. He rolls his eyes, resolving himself to having to scrape off char from the bottom of the pan because of course, Brian burns food when it’s Roger’s turn to do dishes.

Well, Brian's cooking always leaves a bit too much scorched onto the pan because of his strong dislike of cooking in butter and his fear of oil popping.

As Roger tugs off his scarf, he notices two more things. One he can’t hear Brian singing in the kitchen. Two there is a plume of smoke drifting out of the kitchen. That explains the haziness he thinks, and the grimaces when he realizes that he had just accepted that it was his shit eyesight.

It isn’t his fault his glasses are missing in action (no, that would be John’swho while drunk seems to forget how gangly his limbs are).

Wait. That means the kitchen is actively smoking. Roger drops his scarf to the ground and skids to a stop in front of the archway to the kitchen, unsure of what he would find. Had Brian simply misjudged the temperature again or would he find that they’ve been the victim of a burglary gone wrong and now his best friend would be –

Only there is no one in the kitchen but an overflowing pot of what Roger is guessing noodles because he can see the pasta box in the bin. Still unsure of where Brian had gone Roger crosses the kitchen scanning for any clues. He pulls the pot off the burner, hissing at the temperature of the handle, and sees now that the smoke had been caused by a few macaroni’s that had gone over with the bubbling water and rest underneath in the lit flame.

He turns the burner off and lets out a long sigh.

“Oh, Rog! I didn’t hear you get in!” Brian’s soft voice lilts through the hallway.

“Nah, because you were trying to burn the bloody flat down!” He calls back.

His hand is red but it doesn’t look like a burn and he folds it – then decides to run it under lukewarm water anyway. Brian can feel a little guilty. Roger turns to see Brian wander into the kitchen. His hair is disgruntled fluffiness and the way he rubs at his eyes and the ink stains on his fingers tells Roger he had been writing. He tilts his head, for some reason Brian still has a pen behind his ear.

“What?” Brian wrinkles his nose, “what burned?”

Roger lifts a brow.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh! What were you even doing?”

Brian rubs the back of his neck and then frowns, “is your hand okay?”

“Pan was a bit hot,” Roger replies with a shrug, “don’t dance.”

“That’s Deaky’s bit.”

“Not when it comes to conversation, you’re a prima ballerina.”

“I think you just called me dramatic.”

“I would never. It must be the shock from almost burning to death.”

Brian rolls his eyes and steps next to him. Roger always appreciates that Brian moves with a sort of staggered slowness, and he feels long and calloused fingers wrap around his wrist before pulling it from the water.

“Ah, it isn’t even burned! It’s barely red!”

Roger sticks his tongue out, “could’ve been. I didn’t know. I barely passed A&P.”

“B is barely passing now?”

“See there you go again, talkin’ about my problems when I still don’t know why you tried to commit arson, look at those poor ash piles! They used to be noodles.”

Brian looks forlornly at the burner and Roger feels a confusing mix of fondness and confusion – of course, Brian would be sad about “killing” macaroni.

“Ah well – I thought of a good song lyric so I went upstairs to write it down before I forgot. Then I noticed that I hadn’t written out an answer to a problem, so I had to do the math again to make sure I wrote the right one. After that, I made sure my bag was prepared for tomorrow and I couldn’t find my good pen-“

“The one behind your ear?”

Brian lifts his hand and smiles sheepishly, “I put it there hen I went to get my books sorted.”

“So you wouldn’t lose it?”

“Exactly!”

Roger lets out a long sigh, and pinches Brian’s nose in punishment, “go open a window. I might have failed human physiology, but I know we have to have air and not smoke to breathe!”

“You got a B!” Brian squawks before freeing his nose and shuffling over to the kitchen window.

Brian might be a bit of a mess – and occasionally frightfully distracted – and it is annoying. There are days were pulling his hair out are more tolerable than being in the same room as the guitarist, but Roger can’t deny that he would rather deep clean the kitchen every mealtime than to never have Brian in his life.

“Oi! That was the last box of pasta!”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please leave your thoughts and comments below!


End file.
